RPlog:A Morning at the Cafe
Commerce Square - Plaxton City: Caspar The hustle and bustle of this place is nonstop, as the businesses and stores that ring the square are prosperous and usually have whatever anyone could be looking for. An arm of the bluffs that encircle the city ends here and rocks jut out between buildings in some places. An attempt at a common park at the square's center has long been trodden over many times, and is wore down to dirt with the passage of time. Several speeders occupy parking slots here and there, and a constant flow of people go from storefront to storefront. The early dawn sky above is clear. Gimel 1.65 meters of Rodian with greenish-blue skin and an extra-wide strip of spikes over the head which are darker blue than the skin. The pointed right ear is missing a slice out of the back and lobe and a matching mark along that section of head indicate that whatever took the ear also damaged the scalp behind. There is a half-moon slice out of the left cheek where the skin flap was re-sealed not quite seamlessly and a regrowth of skin around both wrists which is smooth, rather than the typically textured Rodian skin, and darker than the surrounding areas. The Rodian's underrobe is of saffron Tarelle sel-weave with an embroidered slit neck which strains across the being's powerful chest muscles and falls to brush the tips of gray boots. Over this is worn a dark brown ankle-length gaberwool open-fronted robe with gold embroidery along the neckline, front edges, cuffs of the wrist-length sleeves, hemline, and following both knee-high side slits. Over the brown robe is a wide darker brown sash-belt with unseen fastener, cinching the robes at waist-level. To top off the outfit is a Pasmin wool cloak, deceptively lightweight but fully insulative, with a deep hood that's currently thrown back and an open front. The red-brown cloak's fastenings glitter the color of pure orichalc, being a rare display of wealth. Sinter The Rodian in the gray jacket stands a bit taller than most, 1.83 meters before antennae. His skin is a dusty green with several small, old scars scattered about his person but no single one particularly notable. The jacket is armorweave, obvious to the careful observer but its wearer seems to have taken pains to make it so. Sharp-creased slacks of the same material in black are gathered and tucked into matte black boots halfway down his calf. His shirt is faded dark green with a crossover front and pointed collar tabs, several shades darker than the skin of the being wearing it. Asli A humanoid woman with a calm, intense demeanour. She is around 175cm tall and looks around like she's in her mid-twenties. She's medium-built and well toned but not overly muscular. Her face is solemn but her deep brown eyes are gentle. Delicate Sar spots run down the right side of her face and neck in a dapple of mahogany. A deep ochre line of henna with closely-spaced dots on either side runs down from mid-point on her bottom lip to her chin. A similarly coloured apex with closely-spaced dots on the upper side and one large dot in the centre connects her eyebrows. Her glossy ash-blonde hair is tied back in a neat bun on the nape of her neck. She's currently wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, a pale blue long-sleeved linen tunic, and loose linen trousers that are in a fetching shade of beige. She's got a brown leather handbag slung on a long strap over her right shoulder and on her feet she wears comfortable and sensible sandals in a matching colour. A delicate silver hoop hangs from the lower lobe of each ear and she's got the functional standard-issue chrono of CDU strapped to her right wrist. The morning light finds the Rodian executive wrapped in wool against the chill and doing something decidedly unusual for one of this being's social standing - walking. Pacing alongside with his jacket fastened to the neck, Sinter looks around often, antennae alert, but obviously chilled as he reaches up every so often to rub one or another. The boss suffers no such problem, as the cloak's hood is drawn up and though doesn't cover them, nestles the antennae in folds of warm cloth. "You need caf." At the guard's nod, Daleth chuckles softly and cuts abruptly across the street, stopping just long enough to let a small, practical speeder slip past and then finishes the unorthodox crossing by making a diagonal maneuver to bring the pair up in front of a small cafe. "Bustling business. Caf for me, too, and one of those muja muffins." And then the boss moves to find a seat not within the establishment, but just outside on the walkway. Sinter obediently heads inside. What better time to enjoy your planet leave than the early morning? Asli apparently doesn't mind the chill and is out for a nice relaxing walk. She strolls along with an easy, relaxed stride and a small smile on her lips. When she reaches the cafe she pauses outside it not far from where the Rodian is seated. She studies the boards proclaiming all sorts of varieties of caf and muffins and chews on her bottom lip. The morning is, indeed nice and Daleth's maneuverings to capture a table quickly pay off as even the outdoor seating begins to fill up. Lounging a bit under an open-fronted cloak, the Rodian looks around at the early crowd with alert, slightly wandering antennae, one booted foot up on the opposite chair. A couple in busineswear, chatting comfortably, pause near the table to check the posted menu themselves, standing shoulder to shoulder. "I'll get us a table," the male says and reaches for the nearest chair. Daleth's boot hits the 'crete with a thud and he looks around quickly. Spotting the Rodian where he'd assumed an empty seat, he gives a quick nod-bow of apology. "I'm sorry..." eyes widen slightly in recognition even as sinter steps out of the cafe with full hands and pauses, deciding whether it's a confrontation worth dropping breakfast over or something more benign. The man bows again. "Excuse me, Hunter. I didn't know someoen was sitting here." His companion has turned and she, too, gives a quick bow, almost reflexively. Daleth's antennae dip for just an instant, then rise again. "No, no, please... An honest mistake. Would you like my table?" As the Rodian begins to stand, the pair step back as one, nearly treading on the Sarian female behind them. Sinter moves forward and it's his shoulder and elbow that stop the male from doing just that. Now the couple half-turns and seeing the species of the newcomer, bow yet again. Asli overhears the man speaking and watches the little interaction with mild interest. There's a steeliness in her gaze that says she taking note of everything that happens. She smiles at the couple and half-bows in return with her right hand over her heart. "It's busy here, isn't it?" She says amiably to the couple and inclines her head in the direction of Mergensar Avenue. "I've heard Mergensar Diner does the best chime caf this side of Corellia, and it's always empty for some reason." They look at one another, then at her, then at one another, then at the well-dressed Rodian, in tandem. it's almost humorous. Then the male speaks, "Why, thank you. Mergensar Diner. What a good idea!" Taking his companion's elbow, he moves to steer her toward the foot traffic pathway, but not before both bob yet another nod-bow at the Rodians. The shorter, more elegant one sighs an eloquent, buzzingly hooting sound. "Thank you." Sinking back into the recently vacated seat, the green-blue being indicates the opposite chair with a sweep of a sucker-fingered hand. "Will you join me?" Carefully spoken Basic, with a strong accent and that same buzz as the sigh, but only on the sibilants, characterizes the Rodian's voice. "I neither bite nor attack, nor do I set my guards on others. Yet they all seem so loathe to be near me." Sinter, who'd kept Asli from being run over and is therefore the closest to her, gestures with a caf cup. "Sit. I'll get you a cuppa and whatever else you want." He proceeds to serve his boss then wrap his hands around his cup to warm them. Asli hesitates. She sweeps her eyes over Daleth with a touch of distaste. She doesn't approve of him intimidating the citizens of Caspar. She breathes in deeply and lets it out through her nose and sweeps her eyes over the full cafe and capitulates. Nodding briskly, she sits down. "I can pay my way," she says primly and glances over at the blue-green Rodian. "You're cold?" Daleth knows human facial expression and is puzzled. The left antenna dips while the right turns slightly outward and contracts. Even the green-blue head tilts. What has made the young woman displeased? Cloak and robes are spread as the Rodian settles back into the chair. "Naturally." A gracious nod. Sinter's cuddling his caf cup. "Rodians don't do chill, miss. Rodia's pretty temperate." He looks to the boss and catches the look, turning his own right antenna outward in response. He doesn't know, either. "What would you like, Miss? Name it, it's yours." He's smart enough to pick up on when Daleth's trying to appease someone. Asli studies the gesture passed between the Rodians with a look of puzzlement then sighs, warming up to Sinter. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" She says dryly and deliberately orders the cheapest coffee and muffin on the menu. She sits back in her chair and smiles at Gimel. "So... how's... business?" The gray-jacketed Rodian nods and turns toward the cafe, wishing his boss didn't like watching traffic so much so they could sit inside for once. He puts his snout over his cup and breathes deeply in self-consolation. Daleth nods politely to her. "Excellent. I remember you, I do believe, from the beach the other afternoon. With the young man who removed his clothing and ran away from me." The Rodian chuckles. "Whatever happened to him? It was unsafe for him to have left his ... things so out in the open like that." Asli gives Gimel a big, bright smile. She even shows him some pearly white teeth. For a human she looks quite pretty. But there's a brittle edge to her smile. "Both my colleague and his effects were reunited." "Colleague?" Daleth's voice remains pleasant for all this Sarian female seems bent on forcing some form of confrontation. "Funny, you do not look like a military member." The Rodian also settles back, bracing one elbow against each arm of the chair and steepling sucker-tipped ringers over the belt cinching the robe. "Or are you in one of those branches we are all supposed to not know about?" An antenna turns forward and tilts, a bit like a seeker, stopping when it aims at the lady's face. Asli bobs her head in acknowledgement of Daleth and removes her hat. She carefully places it on the table to one side of her and runs a hand over her glossy blonde hair. "Most people say the same thing. I'm a starfighter pilot as a matter of fact, Hydra Squadron. And what do you do, Mr...?" "I have heard of Hydra Squadron." The amused tone creeps into the Rodian's voice gradually. "An excellent unit. Pilot. Indeed." Both antennae have migrated forward now and direct themselves at the female being addressed. "And an officer, of course, with that sort of job." One hand separates from the other and comes up in a mock-salute. "I am honored." The green-blue head inclines. "Gimel Daleth. Simply Daleth, but if you insist on a title I prefer Hunter, thank you." Whatever else the Hunter might have been about to say is postponed as Sinter arrives with a plate of three muffins, only one of which the type Asli requested, and a large cup of steaming caf, the same as Daleth's sipping on. He puts them down in front of the pilot then moves to procure a chair for himself. Asli bows her head in silent acknowledgement of the salute and mutters a quiet word of thanks for the drink and muffins. She picks up the muffin, breaks a bit off and dunks it in the caf. "A bounty hunter?" She inquires mildly. Rodians have no nose. Which means when they laugh while drinking it's vacuumed up the snout or blown out of same explosively. Daleth manages both, suctioning up a goodly amount of caf before having to spit it into a fold of rather expensive robe that's barely gathered and lifted in time. Then the executive starts coughing. Sinter comes at a dead run, all but vaulting a slow-moving Bimm who yelps and ducks out of the way at the last possible second. The guard ends up whapping his boss between the shoudlers sharply as Daleth tries to wave him off. It takes a couple of moments for Daleth to come back to something near normal breathing, the whole time with the gray-jacketed Rodian watching the female suspiciously with one hand curled loosely around his lapel. But when the Hunter does manage to breathe, the first sound from the now-dried snout is laughter. "She...thinks...I...am a...bounty hunter!" Antennae nearly meet in the middle of Daleth's nead, cups folded vertically, as choking becomes laughter and Sinter tries to keep from looking like his employer is making a public spectacle of their table. Asli sits there silent with her hand holding the dunked muffin half way to her mouth. She blinks at the display and sits motionless until part of the muffin falls with a splash into her mug. She quickly eats the rest and returns Sinter's look with a shrug. She really has no idea what's so funny. Coming to the conclusion that the female is not an immediate threat to his boss and nobody around is likely to press an advantage here and now, Sinter makes sure Daleth's breathing regularly then goes back to retrieve the chair. The look he gives his boss is surely meaningful, but perhaps unreadable to the non-Rodians in the area. For Daleth's part, the cloak still serves as an impromptu napkin, pushing muja muffin bits around and doing a lousy job at soaking up sprayed caf. The saffron underrobe sports a long, dark wet mark which doesn't appear to disturb the Rodian one bit. The cup is lifted, examined, and shrugged at. "Enough left. I really should not entertain beautiful humaniod females this early in the morning. It is a strain on the clothing." An experimental sip, then more of a drink as it's deemed still consumable. "No, my dear Navy officer, I am not a bounty hunter. I am the being who sells the Marines their sidearms." Asli's cheeks colour at his comment about being beautiful. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and rubs under her nose with her index finger. "Oh." She says, opening her eyes and dunks another morsel of muffin in her caf. "I've heard good things about the M434s. Very good things." Daleth's antennae actually brush one another as Sinter approaches carrying a chair. The bodyguard pauses, listening in before final approach. The executive nods slightly. "Indeed they are. It is an excellent model. There is another weapon I supply which has begun to find favor with others in your unit, I believe. A small carbine." The green-blue head tilts. "If you might be interested in something like that, I would be most pleased to arrange a personal demonstration of my available weaponry for you at your convenience." Asli raises an eyebrow as she pops the muffin into her mouth and nods as she chews. She swallows and takes a sip of the caf. "I might be interested." Then she puts her hands on her hair and touches her index fingers together in the same way that Gimel's antennae brushes each other. "What does that mean?" She asks curiously and does it again. From somewhere behind the Sarian female, Sinter laughs. He cuts it short, but Daleth echoes him. And when the Rodian laughs, the antennae touch again. "Amusement, my dear. A Rodian smile, as it were." The green-blue head is dipped toward her so she can see the mechanics of tilted, rotated antennae fanning their cups to manage the barest of brushes together. "Centerpoint is the positive expressions, outward," and at this Daleth's head lifts and both antennae suddenly all but fall outward and drop to touch the Rodian's head while the cups contract in an asymmetrical but somehow uniform manner as the executive all but growls, "are the opposite, for the most part." Then antennae and voice all lift, with the former resuming their slow, irregular migratory patterns from front to side and the latter becoming conversational normal-with-buzz again. "If we spend much time together, I am certain you will learn to read me like a data display, indeed." And the left antenna jumps, reversing direction abruptly at this statement. Sinter drops his chair and shoves it into place at the table on the boss's right then sits, shaking his head slightly. Asli glances over her shoulder at Sinter like she'd forgotten he was there. She turns back to Gimel and studies his antennae carefully. "I see," she murmurs and leans forwards. "Interesting." She taps a finger three times on the tabletop then abruptly stops and takes another sip of her caf. Sinter's used to being ignored; in fact if he isn't often ignored he's not doing his job right. So he sinks into his chair and reaches for his caf, not saying anything as the boss confabs with the femme. He just stays alert. Unable to resist, Daleth puts each antenna through a series of maneuvers while they're under scruitiny, utilizing a skill picked up in childhood of being able to consciously waggle them about. Mostly it's good for entertaining the very young or slow-minded, but if the lady is appreciating it, why not indulge her? The Rodian's head is still tilted forward when the fingertap comes. Casually, the Hunter's head raises as one previously acrobatic antenna swings outward, the other forward. "I am gratified you like them." Sinter goes just slightly stiff and reaches for his caf left-handed while his right dips into his jacket and stays there. Faceted eyes are scanning the street and other tables. Daleth leans back and reaches to adjust the cloak, paying particular attention to a damp spot down near the hip. Striding along Commerce Square is a lean human in a dark coat. He is being trailed by a small green, yellow, and white astromech droid, and seems to be carrying on a heated conversation with it. As they approach the sidewalk cafe, the human can be heard saying "Of course I know where Avy lives, Clicker. It's up North Mergansar avenue." He then looks around. "Wait, we're not on North Mergansar anymore, are we?" The exasperated Corellian turns around and begins quickly walking back towards the exit of the business district, when a familiar flash of be-robed blue-green Rodian catches his eye. As he looks closer, he sees that the Rodian is currently entertaining another familiar sentient. His eyes narrow slightly, and without looking down he says, "Clicker. Get that recorder going and come with me." The R3 unit beeps softly and affirmatively. With that Shadow composes his face into his usual crooked smile and walks up to the breakfast bar. "Hot chocolate, please." He intones to the server. Shadow You see before you a human male, just slightly less than 6 feet tall. He is athletically built and his fluid movement hints at someone who has endured intense physical training, however, his body is not huge and rippling with muscles, but more wiry. His brown hair is slightly longer than regulation military length, and he brushes it back off of his forehead with his hand. His dark brown, almost black eyes scan the area, picking up various details of his surroundings. This man is wearing a black long-coat that hangs down to his calves, over a white turtleneck and black vest. The coat has deep pockets on the outside of it, while the vest also has several pockets and seems to be lightly armored. On his legs are black pants tucked into black spacer's boots. The boots are highly polished, and reflect the lighting in the area. On the right lapel of his coat is a small pin, about the size of a fingernail. If you look closely, you can see that the pin is a small carving of a dragon's head, open maw facing the viewer. R3-K7 Colored green, yellow, and white, this clear-domed R3 unit trundles along, constantly turning its sensor dome from side to side. The unit makes a clicking sound when it is processing, but other than that just speaks with the usual beeps and whistles of an Industrial Automaton astromech product. Asli smiles indulgently at Gimel. She's vaguely amused by the display, but not really. She's seated opposite the Rodian at a table in an outside cafe with a large straw hat on the table next to her. She dunks more muffin in a steaming mug of caf and looks up at the familiar voice. "Morning, Shadow." She calls out gently to the Human. The bodyguard saw him first and rises soundlessly from his seat, indicating the familiar approching figure with a slight nod. His right hand stays put and he begins a slow fade back toward the building, working tables and patrons between himself and the Human and trying to make his retreat go unnoticed. Daleth reaches over, picks up the extra cup and casually dumps the contents into the one so recently siphoned from, where the two quantities of caf blend to make a mostly full container. The cup is flipped toward a trash recepticle which it manages to hit, but not enter. "Do not yell across the tables, dear, it is not good manners." The Rodian's posture shifts slightly, one foot moving a bit and the cloak being rearranged slightly where it's being sat upon. Both antennae have turned outward; the left lightly brushes Daleth's head while the right continues to migrate slowly over that side's pointed ear. About this time Gimel's comlink makes a beep or two, the indication that a call is incoming. On the other end is a certain Quarren, busy getting himself a little medical attention. Too bad he can never seem to find the cute nurses in the revealing outfits that want to kiss it better. No, he gets stuck with the med-tech with the spray antiseptic, the odd smelling cream to help with puncture wounds, and the spray sealant. To top it off the outfit looks like something the asylum would use. Sigh. Asli sips her coffee and watchs Gimel obscure any trace of his bodyguard. She frowns and gives the Rodian a brisk smile as her eyes track up to his antennae. "Don't tell me what to do," she says mildly and puts her hat back on her head. The bodyguard's motion does not go unnoticed, and Shadow nods his acknowledgement of the maneuver. The two have an understanding, and the Commander will not infringe on that understanding with any kind of untoward move towards Sinter's charge. Smiling as he turns to the sound of his name, the Corellian smoothly cuts between tables and patrons towards the two seated beings. Nodding down at them as he cups the steaming mug in his hands, he says "Asli, how's it going? Nice day, isn't it?" He then turns his smile on the Rodian seated with her. "And Daleth! Little chilly out here this morning for a Rodian, eh?" She is one of his. Not that Daleth disbelieved, but there is still something off about it all. The Rodian's head inclines and one foot moves over to nudge the third chair at the table. Bringing both hands up to wrap around the now-almost full cup of caf for a moment before reaching up to the comlink discretely clipped along the left lapel, the exec invites, "Do join us, Shadow. It is chilly, but wool makes up for a lot of the sins of nature. But if you will excuse me?" Leaning back to give the illusion of privacy, Daleth taps the comlink. "What?" It's the usual salutation - this is a busy Rodian and time is rarely wasted on unnecessary pleasantries. The other end of the line picks up with a certain familiar voice. "Good afternoon, sir. Just thought you might want to know that Tuzzi seems a bit... touchy today. I apparently answered wrong when asked my opinion of an outfit." When one is pregnant and asks you if something makes them look fat, run. Just run. A little sigh follows. "I hope your day is going better than-ow, that stings... Sorry. Than mine is." The tech should be done soon. Pulling the chair out the rest of the way, Shadow drops his form heavily into it. "Thank you for the offer, Daleth." He sips cautiously from his still steaming drink. Hissing as the hot fluid hits his tongue, he spills a small drop on his all-weather coat. "Nuts..." he mumbles, then looks back up at his breakfast companions just as Daleth leans back and begins speaking into his comlink. Turning to Asli, he asks, "So, what brings you out here today?" The smile he offers her is broad, but somewhat... strange. As if it's a bit strained. As he's doing this, R3-K7 is having difficulty maneuvering the narrow pathway's between the chairs and tables of the room. Giving up, the small droid wheels outside the light barrier that separates the cafe from the sidewalk, and takes up a good recording position there, clicking softly Asli has two untouched muffins in front of her. She slides the plate over to Shadow. "Please," she says gently and gestures expansively around her. "I have some planet leave and I thought I'd enjoy the sunshine. Some times it's nice to feel the sun on your shoulders. What about you?" She asks with a touch of concern in her eyes and glances sideways at Gimel then back at Shadow. Daleth's head shakes just slightly as the green-blue thumb descends on the commlink activator. "Pass her off to Dexsin if he is around. He has the ability to sooth her most of the time, and if he is not in sight he is watching the hall." Indeed, the Rodian's stockier bodyguard seems quite willing to stay close to the pregnant female, which is satisfying to the executive. "And learn to duck. I am in Plaxton, and appear to have met with Shadow and one of his pilots. If you get free soon, your presence would be welcome." Yes, it's an order, but others might be listening. Daleth taps the comm and glances around. Shadow, the pilot who still hasn't supplied a name but appears to be called 'Asli' (note, get her info), Sinter back by a flowering vine, and that one is pointing? Casually, the antennae turn first, followed by the green-blue head. Faceted eyes scan. There's a glint of morning light off the walkway direction, but it's too low to discern. One finger scratches where there used to be an earlobe, then a second. Check on it. There's a slight pause on the other end of things as the quarren goes about getting just what was suggested done. "Dexsin is already keeping her company, I shall just extend that state of affairs then. I don't think she is in the mood for seafood, in any case." Not after finding out that the seafood is also a mite more desparate to keep from the stabbity than she is to stab. "Shadow? Oh yes, the one you mentioned. Hopefully there are foodstuffs near your location, otherwise I shall have to get something once I have found you. With this little incident I forgot lunch." He has Sinter's commfreq, he can likely check for a direction or two if need be. "Just have to get finished checking out here." Nodding thanks to Asli as he grabs one of the muffins, Shadow leans back in his chair and takes a bite out of it, chewing it up and swallowing before he answers. "Oh, I was going to visit a friend, but I can't seem to find the place. Decided I needed some hot chocolate, so I stopped in. I like to spend time dirtside. Caspar's such a nice place." As he's saying this, Daleth finishes his communication. Hearing his own name come through the comlink, he turns raised eyebrows to his squadron mate, then leans back in his chair; mug in one hand, muffin in the other, and smiles crookedly. "You've found interesting company for your breakfast this morning, eh?" The twinkle in his eyes is mischevous. Asli bobs her head and smiles demurely as she picks up her caf and takes a drink. "I'm a friendly person." She murmurs and keeps quiet while she eavesdrops on the conversation. When Gimel finishes she smiles brightly at him and Shadow in turn. "So how do you two know each other?" She says with her own glint of mischeviousness in her eyes. "I am seated on the outer patio of a cafe, actually. Coordinate with Sinter and approach from the southeast." And then the comlink is tapped off and Daleth turns attention back to the table. Antennae move forward. "My apologies," the statement is executive-smooth. "My chief engineer was suffering some...technical difficulties." A gracious nod and the notice that muffins appear to be disappearing. Of course, part of Asli's is in her caf, but still, the Rodian is a good host. "Shall I send for more?" The gesture takes in the empty plate and brings an open hand back across the table. "I should," why ask when you've decided already? To appear the gracious host, of course. "Krel should be along shortly. Many mouths to feed." Daleth chuckles slightly. Shadow's presence might well be coincidence, but his attitude is pure dance, and so the Rodian settles back to join in the intricate steps that the two engage in so very often. This is the second of the Commander's command that has seen an edge to the executive. Whether Shadow heard the retort the female made or not is, at this moment, immaterial. The gesturing hand circles around and up, grandly, the sovereign acknowledging the masses. Fingers flick and between first and second appear a strip of gilt-edged crystalline vertex, the Rodian's way around difficulties linguistic and cultural. There is but one server on the patio, but gilt catches light and light catches eye and half the price of a speeder bike being waved in the air is bound to catch attention. Shintu heads towards the same cafe of which Shadow, Gimel and Asli are currently attending. He stretches lightly and gives off a stiffle of a yawn as he proceeds inside. Shintu The hair has been completely shaved off that casts off a almost dull shine. The eyes are particulary the features of his face. The cornea of the eye has been transformed and colored to portray a very black color, with the pupil of his eyes casting a blood red color. the fineness of the eyes are sucken a bit, to give off this drastic horrific look. His face seems to be pale also, a shade more towards white. The body itself seems fit and trim for a person that is rather heavily active. His muscular tone is precise, not overly done nor under. Worn over this man is a black long sleeved shirt that comes down to his wrists. The shirt tucks into dark black pants that come down to the knee length. This clothing is fitted to be worn tightly and fittingly to the person for greater movements. Connecting at the knees are knee length black boots. Worn over his hands are black gloves. Shadow, Gimel and Asli are seated around a table outside a cafe drinking caf and eating muffins. Shadow, however, is drinking hot chocolate. Shintu slips back outside with his own latte of coffee and a bag of donuts... hmm, donuts. He strafes himself through the twisted centers of chairs and people, avoiding several collisions as it stands only to miss another and run into Asli's chair; in turn throwing the bag of donuts and spilling his latte towards the table and Asli .. The only response to what sounded like tactical orders that comes from the comlink is, "Acknowledged." Then of course the comlink is off, and of course the Quarren isn't heard getting a locational fix on his final destination from Sinter. If nothing else, the Rodian is good for getting an accurate description of where they are. From the southeast. Hmmm. How interesting. Krel's choice of transportation is simple and unassuming... that's right, he catches a cab to the proper location from which to head on up the way, to finally encounter the cafe. Give him some time here. Chuckling as Daleth begins waving around a large amount of cash, Shadow settles further into his seat and take another bite of muffin, followed by a sip of his steaming drink before answering Asli's question. "Remember those SS-V blasters I told you about, Asli?" He nods in the direction of the cash-waving Rodian. "Hunter Daleth is the one I purchased it from. Fine weapon, that SS-V. In fact, I recently had a chance to test mine out under live conditions." His eyes are narrowed, but his smile is still wide and pleasant. "Daleth is quite an agreeable sentient to do business with." Just as he finishes, a new arrival spills a hot beverage on the table and towards Asli. Moving quickly, Shadow slams the arm holding the muffin down on the table to prevent further spilling of the hot contents upon his squadron mate with the barrier made by the sleeve of his all-weather coat. Squinting up at the newcomer, the smile drops from his face. "I seem to have crushed my muffin." Asli watches Gimel flash his cash with mild distaste at the ostensible display of wealth. It seems that this Sarian doesn't mind wearing money, but waving it around is plain vulgar. She yelps more in shock at first when the hot liquid splashes her. Then there's a distinct note of pain and irritation in her voice as she curses in Sarian. She grabs a fistful of paper napkins held in a convenient dispenser in the middle of the table and begins to blot her arm and tunic. Her skin is already red and blotchy but doesn't look too badly scalded. She looks up at Shintu and reproaches him with a stare but says nothing. The cafe is busy, after all. There is one very busy Rodian in a gray jacket trying to make his way around the perimeter of the patio without drawing attention from a certain table, comlink in one hand and other tugging at his collar as he gives directions to the cafe. He edges around a tray carrying waiter, in fact the only server on the patio, and contrives to nudge him so as the waiter turns he spots a well-dressed businessbeing at that specific aforementioned table who is holding up two months' wages in gilt-edged crystalline vertex, attempting to catch the attention of this particular server. The contact appears successful and the waiter tucks his tray and moves that way. The businessbeing, another Rodian to be precise, nods once at the approaching waiter and is focussing attention that way when a spatter of hot beverage accompanied by the Rodian's female tablemate's yelp causes a series of rapid motions. The vertex hangs suspended midair as the hand holding it drops, fingers parting, to support the rising Rodian by slamming flat to the table. The other hand flicks as the act of standing knocks the Pasmin wool cloak off the being's shoulders and when Daleth hits the extent of the maneuver a glint of metal flashes between the right fore- and middle sucker-tipped fingers, the business end of the little blaster finding a home under the chin of the clumsy Human that doused the female. Faceted eyes seek to look the target in the eye. Across the patio the comlink is forgotten as the gray-jacketed Rodian stands with his hands clasped in front of him, low, using an inattentive Sarian to cover the weapon that's appeared suddenly in his hands. Gimel unconceals its Q-2 Hold-Out Blaster. Gimel wields its Q-2 Hold-Out Blaster. "Not your home, here." Growls a husky voice thickly laden with the gruff, Horansi accent. Hauling one cub by the scruff in her left paw and having hooked the other youngster under her right 'arm', K'ttyri Tarashabi ducks swiftly out from a deli, but not without suffering a 'thwack' of some sausage links to her left shoulder. Retaliating with a passive snarl and fang display as she escapes the doorway entirely, the Gorvan adds "Bad to play with their food, Sufa. Now your father must pay." Narrowing her eyes at the shrunken cub held aloft in her left paw, she utters a final disciplinary growl in her native language. Only after she's plodded several meters away from the deli does she lower her children to the ground. They tottle closely to her legs, huddled against her with whining pleas. "We have to find food elsewhere now." K'tyyri grumbles softly, ears swiveling to take in the surroundings while her eyes scan the area. "I smell more...this way. An old friend once brought me to this place. Your father, too. He'll find us." K'tyyri This Gorvan female surpasses most beings around her with a height that levels out at nine feet. K'tyyri's covered from ears to tail by a luscious layer of tawny fur. Some tufts have been highlighted along her shoulder ridges and head from the sun while others near her hind end are a darker shade. Her golden-tan hide runs with smooth radiance down to the tufted tip of her tail, but two scars across her muzzle and flank briefly interrupt this pattern. '' ''Golden-green eyes study you with intelligent observance. Around those eyes, the fur lightens to a paler color before thick, black tissue encircles the actual eye lids. Alert ears flicker back and forth atop a majestic head. Her muzzle slopes gracefully from the forehead and ends in a snuffling brown nose, from which mottled whiskers fan. '' ''To pacify the kimach masses, she dons a modified vest and clan loincloth. The vest is made of a thin hide, still bearing the faint scent of meat. It is a deep mahogany shade, save for the pale, bristling fluff that sprouts outward from the inside layer to create a furry crest that trims the "neckline". A snowy fur with a beaded trim drapes between her thighs. Below her left shoulder, a shining, three-clawed medal is pinned on her vest, an honorable award of war, and if one looked close enough they'd see a smooth, gold band around a 'finger' on her left forepaw, the ring is inset with a diamond. "I lost my donuts" States Shintu firstly. Then, of course secondly he looks at Asli "Gorram it. I am so damn sorry mi-" His sentence is stopped as he feels the cool metallic feel of a blaster under his chin. "Well, hello Rodian, lovely to see you too. Care to take that away from my, er chin?" He states calmly, hands going upwards. The left extends outwards to show no harm, while the right holds the cup. "Please?" He finishes. Krel is... well, going places right now. He's riding a cab, and at least from the perspective of one that's ridden in more than one form of pay-for-transport, this one isn't so bad. He's been in worse, to be sure. Been thrown out of one, even, that was a hoot. The Quarren spends some time tugging a mouth-tentacle and thinking, pondering what's gone on. He reaches to rub the back of his neck with one three-fingered hand, sighing. Hmm. Eyes widening at this sudden turn of events, Shadow's eyes narrow as a faint beeping and warbling seems to issue from his vest. Right arm still holding the caff on the table at bay, he turns his head slightly so that he can keep Sinter in his peripheral vision as he slowly reaches out and places a hand gently, but firmly, on the Rodian's arm, without drawing it down. Clicker had given him the location and armed status of the bodyguard over his compin, and the Corellian didn't want to make any move that might set off the defender. "Daleth, I'm sure it was a mistake. I don't think an armed confrontation is necessary, yes?" His eyebrows raise, before asking without turning. "You alright, Asli?" The conern in his voice is genuine, although not overly so. It is just a small burn, after all, and Asli's a tough one at that. Asli switches her stare from Shintu to Gimel. "There's no need to overreact, Hunter Daleth," she says evenly. "He didn't do it on purpose." She smiles and bows her head at Shadow. "I'm fine." She says calmly. "No harm done." She tuts as the fastidious woman dabs at her stained tunic. "Can't say the same about my clothes, though." It would seem that with all the chaos taking place here- Spilled coffee, flying sausages, rambunctious cubs, that nobody would really notice the quiet appearance of the long paw of the law. Which is somewhat surprising as Sh'par is nothing if not noticeable. Wandering through the area on one of his regular foot patrols, the CDC officer is quite the imposing sight, what with being almost ten foot tall and so on. Sh'par's broad nose flares as he catches the scent of his mate and cubs, but his attention is rather more taken up by the sight of the developing situation by the cafe. One enormous paw pulls out a Kylan, the hand-cannon looking like a toy in his grasp, while the other merely flexes, the glint of metal showing from where the horansi's claws should be. Long, limber legs carry him across the last few metres into the little street scene, his tail lashing behind him. "Why don't we put the blaster away and not make paperwork for the nice policeman?" He rumbles in accented basic. His voice is low, but the powerful bass tones seem to vibrate through one's form. Particularly the stomach region. As the walkway lining the street becomes more crowded, K'tyyri hoists both cubs up, one clinging to each shoulder, placing them a little above the strangers' heads. "Mshnisk." K'tyyri grunts, sensing the potential for mischief *before* it can be acted out. Yadumu mrrs in compliance, leaning her head to rest beneath her momma's chin so that she may stare in challenge to her brother. Sufa remains quiet for the time being, knowing better than to swat at his sister at such proximity to mother's nose. Glancing behind for a sign of Sh'par, K'tyyri pauses near the entrance to the cafe. Her tufted brows furrow, ears slanting as the glance fails to reveal a sign of her mate...oh wait. Snuffling noisily as the winds change, she twists her head back towards the cafe. His voice rumbles in her ears, bringing a huff of relief from her chest. Lifting her chin, she chuffles twice, padding around the building to the action-packed patio. And it is there that she stops. Her hackles rise swiftly at the sight of the metallic, kimach toys, memory holding well the pain of war that had evicted her family from their homeworld. "Sh'par." She rumbles, easily matching his tone though her height reached merely his jaw. Her tail lashes once in annoyance, sweeping the hat clean off the head of a seated patron. Both cubs turn their heads to stare in wonder at the seated aliens, ignorant of the potential violence. Sh'par wields his Kylan-3 Heavy Blaster Pistol. "Someone tried to kill me less than ten clicks from here last week, Shadow. I want to know who this is before I relax too much." The Rodian's Basic is precise, spoken carefully but with a strong accent and a buzzing on the sibilants that causes it to become a bit difficult to many listeners. "Would you do me the courtesy of checking him for weapons?" Daleth steps laterally, to remove the table as an obstacle between self and the Human on the wrong end of the compact weapon. There's a flash of motion in Daleth and Shadow's periphery as Sinter reacts to the potential of danger by raising his blaster and then there's another blaster in the mix and a familiar uniform on a tall figure and the Rodian goes still. "My pleasure, Officer." The hand lowers slowly, every move precise. "But not without your express permission to move my hands out of your line of sight, of course." It's hardly code, but both antennae drop flat to the green-blue head as quickly as Rodianally possible and Sinter sinks down out of sight behind the table, using the elegant distraction of more than two meters of law enforcement presence to keep from being obvious. Krel is let off of his taxi a block or two from the cafe where he's supposed to go for some lunch, the Quarren not expecting any issues at ALL. Gimel usually has a way about these things, if he's had any problems they haven't been reported much. It is with hands tucked into opposing sleeves that Krel makes his way on northwards now, having gotten directions to the cafe from the taxi person so he didn't get turned around upon egress from the vehicle. Be just a minute or two before he's there, now. And wow is that alien tall. The Human takes a step back, a frown twisting his face "Well, Rodian, I had no part in that. Your life, unsavory as it is or is not, is none of my concern. Though -" He states lightly, twisting to take a shot at the trash-can; which misses by a marginal bounce off the lid and onto the ground -- "- I suppose, I had tht one coming. Besides -" He turns around to look at the Rodian again "- you really shouldn't over react to a cup of jo being spilt onto a fair lady. Names, Shintu." He finishes lightly, a hand extending outwards. Eyebrows raising at the deep rumbleing voice behind him, Shadow smiles broadly and releases the Rodian's arm as it is moved away from the human he had been threatening. Leaning his chair backwards onto two legs and looking up, his eyes trail the giant figure standing there with a large weapon. And the weapon looks small! Knowing that his presence here is now completely unnecessary, Shadow plops the chair back down on all fours. Chuckling at the being introducing himself, he stands up saying, "And my name's mud if I don't get back to the Typhoon in an hour. Daleth, as always this has been an interesting experience." He turns and smiles at Asli. "I'll see you around, Asli. Try to stay out of trouble." Last he faces the armed and enromous CDC officer. Pulling the left of his coat over, a CDU Navy Vector Apex is displayed on the armored vest worn under the long coat. "If you don't need me for anything in particular, officer, I need to get on patrol." Asli licks her lips slowly as she looks from Shintu to Gimel to the tall alien. She swallows, takes a slow, deep breath in through her nose and lets it out noisily. She looks up at Shadow and nods. "I'll see you soon." Apart from that she does nothing. She sits still. And waits. "That's it, little rodian. Now let the blaster drop to the floor, nice and slow, and step back two paces." Sh'par rumbles in a tone that is not so much menacing as deadpan. He honestly doesn't need to act threateningly- just him being there is imposing enough. "Kick the blaster towards me, and then shake the little monkey's hand. We're all nice friends here in Caspar, yes yes?" His amber eyes flick back and forth amongst the group, noting Shadow's rank badge. The pilot is given a nod as he goes on his way. Daleth is excruciatingly careful with both hands, turning to assure the law enforcement felinoid has a clear view of each as the weapon is lowered. The small blaster is let to drop, and a cocked boot sends it toward the felinoid without much need of a kick, the benefit of robes. "I am Gimel Daleth, Officer, and if you will allow me, my weapons permits are accessible." The Merr-Sonn CEO indicates where the slim case holding the documentation required resides tucked against the ribs to one side beneath the wide sash. Only the instruction for a handshake is ignored, but a headtilt is made in that direction that skims the edge of gracious. Both antennae have lifted again and calmly move in the languid patterns normal for an unpreturbed Rodian. As Shadow slips away, another nod directed at the Commander's retreating back and one antennae cocks ever so slightly. Across the patio, with weapon now holstered out of sight, Sinter slips behind a small group of beings watching the goings-on and joins with them unobtrusively. It is into this august meeting that a certain Quarren arrives. Krel takes in the scene before him with a certain amount of... well, let's just say that he's nonplussed about the whole thing and move on, right. He continues on up the street, taking note of an R-series droid just resting there. One nice thing about having relatively soft-soled shoes and a good degree of passers-by are silent approaches. the R-series typically has only a single good optical pickup, though several other forms of sensors to see around them. With this in mind the Quarren bypasses the droid smoothly, one three-fingered hand coming free of the sleeves of his robe to rap briefly on its head in that 'anybody home?' fashion, before making a snap judgement. He chooses a table relatively close to the droid where it can feel free to chatter at him, settling in with an apparent lack of care of what goes on with the overly tall kitty and rodian. Asli reaches out and takes her caf but after a large swig she discovers it's stone cold and she nearly spits the stuff out. She lets out a sigh now that the tension seems to be over and dabs at the caf stain on her tunic. She tuts again. The droid burbles a quiet warning at Krel and goes back to seeming inactivity. "Leave the droid alone," says Asli in a firm tone that carries across the busy cafe even though she's not speaking especially loud. She doesn't look at Krel and moves her bag to hide the caf stain. "It's not your property." The huge lion stoops down to retrieve the palm-blaster, not shifting his eyes or gun from the rodian for a second. "Very well, let us see permits, yes?" He rumbles. He looks almost disappointed that this isn't going to result in anything more exciting. The epitome of cooperation, our Rodian, as the case is retrieved left-handed and flipped open in the same manner, presented at arm's length with a vaguely impressive stack of documentation authorizing possession and carrying of practically every small arm up to and including military rifles, with dealer's endorsements for bulk posession, transport and sale appended throughout. It's not arrogantly displayed, nor does Daleth make any more of a show than is necessary, thumbing past most of the documents until only the ones pertaining to the weapon on the ground and another for heavy blaster pistols are shown. "My pleasure. I must apologize for overreacting like that, but as one of the last times I was out and about with a comely female someone attempted to accost us, I moved on..." and antenna quirks, "instinct before reason." Hmmm, now where can one find a waiter? The Quarren turns his attention to the lady that is making the large fuss over the droid, mouth-tentacles curling in amusement, squeeizng each other but briefly. "It is an astromech droid, madam. If it cannot handle a knock or two it has no business being taken EVA." This observation past, Krel turns his attention once more to the seeking of things that are good to eat. That waiter is likely getting a little harried by this time, at least if he's still trying to keep up with the Rodian even with the license check going on. Krel's hungry though, and will go hunt that one down if he needs to. Meanwhile he's watching. Asli glances at Krel and smiles. She pushes back her chair and stands. "Please excuse me officer, Hunter," she says and nods politely to each in turn then she walks over to the harried server. She touches his arm and exchanges a quiet word. The server glances at the droid and nods. Asli leaves the cafe and heads in the direction of Trinum. The information is studied carefully, Sh'par taking his time to check each indivdual category on the licence. In the end however, he nods and holsters his own weapon. With delicate movements of his clawtips (the tiny pistol being far too small for his fingers) he removes the powerpack from the weapon, disarming it, before handing it back. "You be good now, Mr Daleth. No fighting, no threatening. I've got my eyes on you." He then steps back, taking the powerpack with him. A nod is given to Asli and all the others present, and then he continues his rounds. Having been spending his time on the preiphery of the incident, the waiter contrives to slip in and get his hands on that 300-credit slip of crystalline vertex as soon as possible. Only then does he deign to notice customers once again, but this time with a large smile and utterly smug but polite attitude. As permits are being checked and the wrong end of a blaster, and one of the competetion's heavier models, to boot, is keeping Daleth busy, it is only with a quivering antenna and barely audible hoot that the Rodian responds to the waiter's act. It's a cynical moment, but then Daleth is again acting as though being done a facvr, accepting the palm blaster and permits graciously and with thanks, and a tilted head. "Your diligence is much appreciated, Officer. But when you decide to look into some real firepower, do look me up. I am very certain you will know how to find me." And with a polite bow, the executive watches the great being turn to leave. Only then is the small weapon retrieved from a pocket, armed with a new power pack, charged, and stowed back into the sleeve rig from whence it came. Sinter keeps his distance as Shadow, the female pilot, the clumsy caf-spiller, and finally the law enforcement feline take their leave, not drifting back to the table until all is clear. His boss rewards him with a nod and a soft word in Huttese before this pair, too, begin to make their way streetward. But they contrive to drift past a certain Quarren as they go, Daleth pausing to check that permits and identification are stowed securely. "Find out about the droid," is the murmured instruction. Asli melds into the crowds and is gone. As the last of those involved in this interesting day leave, the small green, yellow, and white R3 droid begins clicking softly. When the Rodian pauses next to the Quarren, the droid makes a short, sharp click. After the Rodian leaves, the droid extends his third leg, wheels around in a circle while taking a barely noticable moment to focus it's optical lens on the Quarren who so recently tapped him on the dome and then had reason to communicate with the Rodian. Then, whistling and clicking contentedly, the small thing rolls down the street, and on to South.